It's a rough economy. It's hard for a feline to find work.

I tried to get up and out of bed several times this morning. Dorian kept grabbing me with one leg halfway over the edge of the bed, rolling over, and pinning me back down. So much for that idea.

"Dorian, wake up, you wanted me to make you coffee and breakfast."
(As he falls back to sleep) "I am waking up. I'm just doing it at my pace so I don't Hulk out...(softly) rawwwrrr..."

"You should come with me to the bank naked...we'll get a better price...and perks."

(Dorian flinches)
"Stop poking me with your guinea pig!...Stoppit!..."
(Dorian wakes)
"Wha?"
"Your own hair brushed across your face and you accused me of poking you with my guinea pig."
(Falling back to sleep) "That's right, you're getting all the small mammals today...dip you in butter...WAH-BAM, you're delicious!"
(A moment passes. Dorian begins smacking his lips.)

(Akhim mews at the door, wanting to be fed.)
"Ahh! We're being robbed!"
"What?"
"...No, we're not."
"It's your cat. He's hungry."
"I'm hungry. Fuck that freeloader. Fuck, fuck, fuck, goddamn, fuck...Will you make me some coffee?"
"Sure, but you have to actually let me out of bed this time."
"I will."
(I sit up to leave the bed. Dorian grabs me and pulls me back down.)
(Whining) "Gimme! No! I already laquered your hair."
"What?"

"I don't have to mow the lawn."
(Akhim meows)
"Unemployed fuck. Get a job, cat."

"Take that, fuzzy wine!"

"I'm sorry!"
"What?"
"I'm sorry the box I bought didn't work."
"It's okay."
(Dorian begins feeling the walls of a box, like a mime.)
"I'm looking for cold."

"What was I just doing?"
"You were pantomiming being stuck in a box."
"No, I was looking for cold...what was my plan again?"
"I don't--I wouldn't know."
"It had something to do with mammals."
(Ahkim meows)
"Goddamn, there aren't even mice, he just freeloads."
"He's your cat."
"Fuck. He doesn't even kill things."
"He took out some fruit flies."
"Tape could take care of fruit flies...(falls asleep)...gotta sell the thing...why aren't I wearing pants?"

Huevos

*Dorian, sleeping, moves his arm, slapping me in the head*
"Oh, I'm sorry, sweet...we should lie down...huevos."

Oil

(Alarmed) "...There's a bug in the oil."
"Ok."
(More alarmed) "...The bug...pour the oil into the cup..."
"I'll take care of it, don't worry."
(Very soft whisper) "Don't drink the oil."

Woo hoo!

No real anecdotes today. I just wanted to share that Dorian's search for gainful employment has found success. His interview was today, he starts tomorrow morning. The job is perfect for him, too.

Oatmeal

After some normal shopping and the leftover dry goods from Ragnarok, Dorian discovered this problem:

"I can't believe we have seventeen quarts of oatmeal in the house."
"I know."
"We gotta start eating that, Adom. Like for dinners and stuff."
"Fine, I'll figure out something I can make with it."
"There's lots of things you can make with oatmeal."
"Look, I told you before you bought it that I won't eat oatmeal."
"I thought you said you didn't like grits."
"No, grits, I'll eat. I hate oatmeal."
"Well, fuck. How do I keep messing that up?"
"I don't know, but it's resulted in us having seventeen quarts of oatmeal."

Akhim

Dorian had a cat in middle school, an eightish year old male cat named Akhim.

Well, the cat is still alive (he's around twenty now), and we brought him home from Dorian's grandmother's house today. He's very, very sweet, and Dorian's been extremely happy since Akhim entered our apartment. The cat's not too unhappy, either, he was walking around and greeting people within half an hour of entering. No yowling, no spraying, no problems at all. In fact, he very readily claimed the comfiest piece of furniture as his own.

So now there's an actual Senatorial Kitten. Sort of. As much as a geriatric, sleeping cat can be called a "kitten."

                                                                                  Photo courtesy our flatmate Matt.


But did I mention I'm allergic to cats?

So last night, at his grandmother's, as I was coughing, and Dorian was stoned on Benadryl (he's allergic to her feather pillows), Dorian suggested, in earnest, a solution to my post-nasal drip:

"We're gonna fill your lower sinuses with sand!"

 My response to this idea was less than enthusiastic, as you can imagine.

This afternoon, as we were driving back home and passing through Waupaca, Akhim was meowing anxiously in the back of the car. Dorian's response:

Dorian: "It's okay, Akhim."
Akhim: (Meows plaintively)
Dorian: "I know, I know you don't like Waupaca."
Akhim: (Meows again)
Dorian: "It's okay, I know you don't like it. Don't be too hard on them because their softball team sucks."
Me, driving: "What the hell?"

I suggested putting that exchange on the blog. Dorian said he'd worry about angry emails from the entire population of Waupaca, Wisconsin.

Still later:

Me: "Sweetie, were you serious about me not putting your disparagement of the Waupaca softball team up on Senatorial Kittens?"
Dorian: "Do whatever you want. They can fuckin' bring it."

Dutch Elm

We had a very long day today. Dorian fell asleep while sitting at the table with Matt, Phil, and myself.

Dorian: "We'll get a bunch of gnomes and we'll like 'em up like this." (Dorian extends his arms outward.)
Phil: "What?"
Dorian: "'Cause when you hit gnomes with a hammer, they turn into diamond. So we'll have a really hard fence."
Phil: "What?"
Dorian: "I may be mostly asleep."

"Did you just ask how late Sirilay is open? She's open 24/7. She's like Kinko's. She's never too late. Don't tell Sirilay I said that, it's inappropriate. You know what, fuck it, tell her. What's she gonna do, climb on me? I've had my Dutch Elm immunization."

"The trick with straws is, you gotta treat it like...like a small ferret." (Dorian presses the tip of his straw against his nose) "You gotta keep your nose on it  so you know where it is."

"Coconut...You smell like potatoes. You taste like potatoes all the time."

"And you know, you can just extrapolate time back to...whenever."

"Take the box. If you don't, I'm going to staple it to your car...with nosehairs...staples."

"Am I wearing pants?"
"Yes."
"That's not fair."

"I don't wanna take the pat on the back."